If This Gets Out(26)

I can’t lie, though, and saying anything before I’ve figured this out risks lying.

I feel sick.

I’m going to throw up, I’m going to—

I’m going to hurt him.

I can’t hurt him. I also can’t lead him on. I can’t say what I know he wants me to say, just to make him feel better. That’s not fair on me, and it’s not fair on him. It’s better to just take some time, figure my shit out, and then talk to him once I know for sure what is going on, and what I want.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “But I really need some space to process this.”

“Don’t be sorry, I get it.”

“No, but I am. You know I really care about you, right? And the last thing I want to do is hurt you.”

Ruben’s eyes flare. “You know, we’ve got to go to breakfast soon.” His voice is hard, and I know he’s hurt. But I will hurt him even more if I tell him I like guys and that turns out to be untrue.

“Totally.” I shoot out of bed and search for my shirt. How the fuck did it get over by the window? “I want to have a shower first. I’ll let you get ready, and I’ll see you down there.”

“Won’t those girls still be in your room?” he asks, as he pulls his blankets around himself.

Crap. The girls. That’s a wrinkle, sure, but my mind is screaming at me to get out of here before I say another thing wrong and make this even more of a mess.

“I’ll use Jon’s shower,” I say.

“You can use the one here.”

“No, no, I’m okay. Thanks.”

“Zach.”

“I’ll see you at breakfast.”

I all but launch myself out of the door. I close it, and rest my forehead against it for a moment, taking in a heavy breath.

What.

The. Fuck.

Have I gotten myself into?

I was hoping once I was out of the room I’d feel some sort of relief. No such luck, though, out here I still feel like complete and utter crap. The hurt in Ruben’s eyes is killing me. I know Ruben, and if I saw he was hurt, it’s only because I blindsided him. Normally he doesn’t show pain. He brushes it off or says something snarky. Almost nothing gets to him.

But this did.

I walk back to my room, and rap my knuckles on the door.

The door opens, revealing one of the girls from last night. I think her name was Manon? Her hair’s a mess, her mascara is smudged, and she’s still in her purple cocktail dress. She has pale skin, and truly is extraordinarily pretty. I imagine kissing her, and I don’t hate the idea. What the fuck, brain?

“Zach,” she says. “Do you want your room back? Lily is still asleep, but I should be able to get her up, if you need?”

I wave a hand. “It’s fine, I’ll go for a walk, I was just checking if you’re still using it. Take all the time you need.”

“If you’re sure?”

“Totally.”

“Thanks, Zach, you’re a lifesaver.”

I go down the hall, and into the elevator.

My phone is sitting heavy in my pants pocket, so I pull it out and check it. Ruben is the last person I messaged, and seeing his name makes my heart rate spike. All I can picture now is his wounded expression. It fills my vision, taking over everything, making my stomach sink.

I’m a bad person.

I focus on my phone. I have an email, an itinerary for the day from Erin. Almost every minute of our day before the show is accounted for. In four hours I have an online chat room with fans, then another photo shoot, and then we’re meeting the winners of a radio contest. So I have a full day ahead. All with Ruben.

I’m not sure how I can see him again.

But I guess I’m going to find out.

In the lobby, I see Pauline, playing on her Switch. I bet it’s Animal Crossing; she’s obsessed.

“Hey, Zach,” she says. “What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing, I was just wondering if I could go for a walk? I’m craving a croissant. Like, a real one.”

She pauses her game. “Mind if I tag along? We’ll have to go out the back exit to avoid the fans, but as long as we’re quick it should be okay.”

This is why I love Pauline: obviously I’d never be allowed to walk out into the streets without security. But Pauline never tells me what to do, and she always asks.

“Sounds good.”

“Great, let’s go. Just don’t tell Chorus, okay?”

I zip my lips closed.



* * *



“Who does the best British accent?” asks Angel, reading one of the messages on the side of the screen.

We’re on video in a chat room with five hundred fans, the ones who got in based on a random lottery. Their questions are all sent via text, and are screened before we see them. This chat room was Angel’s idea, and Chorus loved it. I actually really like it; it’s one of the most pure, unfiltered moments we get to have with fans all over the world.

Now, I’m just waiting for it to end.

Earlier, I had to talk to Ruben to get my stuff from his room, after last night. I was really careful, texting him that I wanted to pick up my stuff rather than just knocking on his door—I thought it would be really unfair of me to show up unannounced, after I asked for a few days of space. I timed it well, so I couldn’t really stick around, because we both had to get ready for this. Now I can’t stop dwelling on the fact that I had to do all this work just to interact with Ruben, my best friend, for five seconds. It was a little awkward, but he mostly seemed like his usual self, and didn’t press me or anything.